


take care of yourself

by booooin



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: All pairings are implied - Freeform, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, High School, Human Trafficking, M/M, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, New York City, Organized Crime, Other, cruel characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:34:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booooin/pseuds/booooin
Summary: L has to choose a successor so Near, Mello, and Matt go live with him and solve mysteries while he watches. They go to high school and, in the evenings, use L's unlimited wealth and power to compete with each other.Completed!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all! this is only my second death note fan fiction. I've been writing this for quite some time and wasn't planning on posting it at first. however, after that white washed atrocity of a Netflix original came out, I decided that I did want to tell another story, if only just to remind myself of that possibility.
> 
> it's a weird story that gets increasingly more awkward with awkward characters as time goes on. the characters have the capacity for love but are mostly busying fronting, which I want to pay homage to. mostly, this is a story about crime and trauma.
> 
> hope you enjoy it

The apartment is _nice_ , if sparse. Matt figures L doesn’t have too much time to shop for furniture. The only couch looks positively Victorian and is totally Wammy’s style. Everything else is too, except for a lone office chair.

L squats on said chair licking his fingers.

“Ah, yes. You can put those over there.”

There’s a moment of confusion because none of them have any luggage before Matt realizes he’s talking about _them_.

Matt, Mello, and Near are the chosen few who has a chance of succeeding L. Since it seems like the guy himself is never going to make up his mind and the disaster that was Beyond Birthday had something to do with his not being socialized properly, Wammy decided it would be for the best if the three of them joined L in his New York office where they would be very closely observed while attending public high school.

Matt’s not completely sure how he got in the mix of things. He’s honed his reputation as a slacker carefully for the past five years.

Wammy goes upstairs and the three of them standing in a row, waiting.

“Please power any and all electronic mobile devices off and put them on the table,” says L. He’s yet to glance over. 

No one moves. None of them had _cell phones_. They were _orphans_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The thing was, Roger didn’t even live with them. He treats them like they’re his nine to five and, at the end of the day, gets to wipe the dirt off his trousers so he can go home to do whatever it was that really makes his life worth living.

Mello hates his office and the stupid culinary manuals and history of food books on his shelves and his stupid, little glasses that covered only half his eyes. He especially hates how Roger always talks about his old job as the Dean of the Psychology Department at Oxford any chance he gets.

Roger waits until the three of them have been in his company for at least five minutes before clearing his throat, like he just realized they were all there, as if he didn’t call them over himself. It’s done specifically so each one of them feels as unwelcome as possible.

They’re dirty orphans and Mello is the dirtiest of them all.

“I’ve just received word from Wammy,” he says, mouth in a straight line. Mello’s not sure how the words get out. “The three of you will be leaving Wammy’s House.”

Mello’s mouth hangs open. Matt just blinks. Near doesn’t even twitch.

“You’ll be staying in L’s New York base and living with him so that he may observe you in your day to day activities. Of course, he will ask to test you from time to time according to your own abilities. Should you consent, the tests will bring him closer to finding his successor.”

If Roger weren’t an old bat, Mello would have appreciated the delivery. Now he thinks that, because Roger is an old bat, over wrought pauses between key pieces of information are all that he has.

“Of course, the three of you are legally required to attend schooling. We’re registered you in an acceptable high school close to the apartment. Please do keep in mind that the main purpose of this activity is closely aligned with the mission of Wammy’s House - to create the world’s greatest detective. Your academic performance may or may not have to do with these goals.”

“Aw, man,” groans Matt. “Do you think the tests are gonna be hard?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

On the plane, Mello sits behind Near and keeps kicking the seat so he can’t recline his chair the entire six hour flight to America. It’s fine because Near tucks his feet into the magazine holder and curls around his knees.

None of them have any books or magazines and there’s no movie either so Near eavesdrops.

“I guess we’ll finally meet the man himself, huh? What do you think he’s like?”

“Probably ugly. Never shows his face.”

Mello laughs. “You ever been to New York?”

“Nah…”

“Me neither.” Mello says this too quickly, the way he does when Near knows that he is lying.

“Wonder what kinda tests we’re gonna be put through, right? Probably not the multiple choice kind.”

“Who knows. Maybe L just wants to see which one of us gives the best head.”

They both laugh this time and Near blinks heavily. His seat lurches forward again from Mello driving his foot right into his back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The apartment itself is a new acquisition. Normally, L stays in hotels but having three teenagers move around with him everywhere would draw too much attention so the townhouse on 9th St and 3rd Ave was purchased.

The only reason this whole thing is happening was because Wammy disagrees with L’s first choice for his successor.

He asked L to think it over carefully. This never happens. No matter what L wants to do, Wammy either stands back or provides what it necessary to get the job done. L isn’t used to having his decisions questioned and, so, can not fathom a reason to change it.

Of course, being L, L knows exactly why Wammy would ask him to change his mind about this particular question.

There’s only three people in the world who knows what lengths Wammy is willing to go through to do what he feels God gave him to right to do. There used to be fourth but A decided to put a bullet in her head instead.

After all this time, L supposes that he’s the only Frankenstein monster left standing after all its trials were long over.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner is an awkward affair when you’re the only one eating. Near never eats anything and Mello only likes one thing so Matt stuffs his face on chicken vindaloo and chana masala.

When L comes and sits with them, he brings his own cupcakes. Mello stares.

“I think we should all introduce ourselves. I am L.”

Mello’s eyes were going to bug out of his head.

“Near,” says Near. L nods at him and Matt can tell that Mello is instantly anxious about not being the first to speak.

“I’m Mello,” he spits out quickly.

L eats his cupcake in a disgusting way. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mello.”

Everyone stares at Matt when he grins around a mouth full of food. “Matt. Duh.”

“Welcome,” says L, smiling crooked. “There are two bedrooms in this apartment, which I expect you to find sufficient. Food will be provided every-“

“You mean you’re not going to live here?” It’s Mello, outraged.

L blinks. “I will be living here. I do not require a bedroom,” he says.

Mello stares so hard that Matt chokes on his chicken.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt, Mello, and Near get their first task.

“Your first task, I think, will be separate” says L as if he’s only just now considering what range of possibilities there were to go through, “Yes, I think that is the best course of action for me to determine what strengths and weaknesses you might already have.”

They wait, breath held. Mello scrutinizes every inch of L before him. His cheap shirt is untucked and his jeans look like he’s been wearing them for the past ten years. He really needs a haircut and there’s a patch on the back of his head that looks like some hair was burned off in an accident. The entire time, he’s been squirming like he is deeply uncomfortable to be hosting three strangers in his home and his left thumb is wrinkled from sucking.

Near looks unfazed so Mello decides that he is too.

“Mello, you will catch the serial murderer in Long Island who has been allowed by the local police to operate for over the past ten years. Please note that it’s very possible he lives close to the ocean. Near, please locate and arrest the Subway Slasher. He is truly annoying and only operates in the summer season. Matt, you will investigate the recent spike of HIV in the Upper West Side and discover that there, indeed, is criminal intent. Please find all available information on the cases you are handling in these envelopes.”

The envelopes are manilla and lightweight. None of them opens them right away.

L goes on. “Any resources you should need and cannot obtain yourselves will be provided by Wammy. Otherwise, I have registered a credit card for each of you to use as you like. Good luck to everyone. Please do not take more than 48 hours to catch the criminal.”

The cards L passes around are American Express Black Cards, the kind you have to spend, like, a billion dollars on every year.

Mello is glad Matt is at his side but afraid to catch his eye. If he does, they’re both screwed because there’s no way they won’t burst out laughing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The school they attend is a few blocks away from L’s base. Mello and Matt are registered as seniors but Near was born close enough to the fall that he gets put in the next class down. He still has Calculus with Matt.

They’ve all seen Mean Girls and Hannah Montana so Near _gets_ school somewhat but, before this, he’d never walked by himself on any street, much less one in the East Village. Someone nears cuts him on the street, they push past him so fast.

He knows it’s a bad sign when all the kids laugh when he’s introduced in homeroom. When he sits down, a boy leans in close.

“Why’s your hair white?"

In Chemistry it’s, “Why are you playing with a puzzle?”

In European History someone asks, “Why do you sit like that?”

And in Calculus someone trips him on the way to his chair and Matt is the only one who doesn’t laugh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey Matt, I thought redheads were spicy, not deadbeat.”

Matt flips Mello off. “I thought blondes had fun.”

“I am having fun. Who says I’m not having fun?”

“I heard that you got detention already from Asia in fourth period.”

Mello leans close and outlines Matt’s ear. “Your new friend’s cute?”

When Matt laughs, it’s always a little bit wonky and fantastic. “ _I’m_ cute. She started talking to _me_.”

The bell rings and school’s out.

“Find me later. We’re going somewhere tonight,” says Mello glaring at Matt like he’s got no choice.

After detention, some college kid in Crown Heights sells them fake IDs for $100 each with a wink and pays $50 back for some Adderall from Matt. They catch the Long Island Railroad at on Atlantic Ave and Matt picks up some Camels while Mello walks along the beach and the sun sets.

It’s late when they get back and Matt likes the way the light gives Mello a halo, glad that the goggles make it harder for him to catch Matt staring.

If Matt could breathe, he’d think the air smelled like salt and the scene was beautiful. He tells Mello who gives him a dirty look.

“I can’t believe how incompetent the police in this area,” he’s grumbling.

“How incompetent?” Matt flirts, draws a spiral on Mello’s bare shoulder.

“Incompetent enough to not recognize a child genius when he shows up at their front door ready to solve their biggest case for them.”

Matt laughs like an asshole. “They turned you away, right?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Near solves his case with surveillance footage and tracks down a footprint to its unique maker. Mello tracks down his prime suspect using outdated gym membership information and gets forensic evidence by actually going to the guy’s house and asking him about his National Grid bill in an uniform he steals from an actual National Grid employee. Matt hasn’t made any progress on his case at all and L considers the possibility that he forgot he had one.

The only thing the kid has done is buy a Nintendo DS. L snatches it one night right before dinner.

“You can have it back when you finish your case.”

Matt’s done before the table is set. Apparently, there’s a forum dedicated to the spread of the HIV gift and it takes him five minutes to doxx everyone involved.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey L,” Mello keeps asking. “What did you think of our last cases? Can we ask you that?”

L likes the blonde kid. He has a sense of humor though there’s something that’s a little overbearing about his attitude.

“Sure,” he says easily, making a shape with frosting with his finger. “All results came out as I initially expected. Without leaving his room, Near contacted Manhattan NYPD as the detective known as L and obtained footage leading to the capture of the Subway Slasher.  Mello, you bypassed the police completely until you had sufficient evidence to submit relating to your case. And Matt made no progress on his case until external circumstances forced his hand.”

“Who did the best?” Mello wanted to know.

L's already considered this. “Without question, it is Matt. Given the amount of effort he put in, it is amazing he was able to access information that would have taken an entire police team more than a week to find in five minutes.”

It placates the kid but no more.

“At least it’s not Near.”

Matt’s DS beeps.

“Aw, man! Fuck this level!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt’s always had the perfect jawline but it’s coming here that’s made Mello realize he’s objectively good looking. He talks smooth too and, for the time being, is loaded so there’s new girls leaning on his locker and putting their numbers in his new phone in the hallways between every period.

They have American History together and there’s a test when Mello waits until everything is quiet and says loudly, “ _Matt!_ Get me a Hershey’s from the vending machine in the cafeteria.”

Matt whines just as loud. “But I’m almost done with this test.”

Mello doesn’t look up or budge. “ _Now_.”

The teacher is livid and asking the “gentlemen” if they have a “problem”.

A finger slides across Mello’s neck and Matt’s walking past him, winking. 

“Hershey's with almonds?”

“You know what I like.” 

The class laughs as Mr. Bissinger yells and chases Matt down the halls.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Yes,” L answers the phone with right in the middle of the first ring. “Denevue here.”

“Hey babe,” the voice on the line flirts. “Just wanted to see if you missed me. Gonna be in your neighborhood later tonight if you want to hang out.”

“Hello, Beyond,” greets L.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After detention Matt finds Mello on a stoop looking cool and bored.

“Let’s go on another date.”

Mello scowls. “That wasn’t a date. That was part of my assignment.”

“Then let’s go on a date.”

Part of having gotten to know Mello so well for the past several years means that Matt can tell when he’s hiding a smile behind a sneer.

“You’ll have to try harder if you want to date me.”

Matt’s so totally interested. “You would date me? For real?”

Andrea, some girl from Matt’s second period, calls him name real loud and clear from across the street and Mello just looks even more bored.

“You’re undatable,” he drawls.

Matt’s mouth is split in a grin and he sits way too close to Mello. “I guess you’re right. I’m a real hopeless case.”

They watch some pigeons fight over a cigarette butt and Mello leans his head against Matt’s shoulder. It’s hesitant but Matt feels like he doesn’t ever want to move ever again.

“Hey, Mello,” he remembers on the walk home. “Near’s getting bullied, did you know?”

It’s twilight so the whites of Mello’s eyes shine real bright when he bugs out. “ _What_?”

Matt can’t believe it’s not obvious but figures, since it’s Mello, there’ll be consequences to pay if he doesn’t stop stressing his blindspot.

“Yeah, just a little bit,” he says. “Not serious stuff or anything. The kid’s tiny and weird, you know?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a group of four boys who won’t leave Near alone, even though he’s stopped bringing his puzzles to school and has no answers for their questions about his hair, his clothes, and or anything else real or imagined.

“You look like a girl, man,” says one, cutting him off.

“I think he’s one of those albino people.”

The third gets in Near’s face. “Are you albino?”

Everyone’s always said that Near has no emotions and is like a robot so, in this situation, he just stands there like he’s dumb. They treat him like he is and pull him up by the backpack.

“Why are you so weird? Do you ever talk?”

“Oh shit!”

Suddenly, everyone is trying to back the fuck away very, very carefully from a Mello with a switchblade and a hand full of brown hair.

“The little shit cut my hair off!”

Mello grins like a feral kid. “I’ll cut more off if you ask me nicely.” 

That’s all it takes for them to scram.

They don’t walk home together. Mello just looks at Near and shrugs.

“Loser,” he calls Near before pushing him off the sidewalk and getting the hell out of there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

L doesn’t see what the big deal is with B. He’s a criminal and L’s a detective so of course they’re attracted to each other. They meet up twice a year to fuck and there’s no strings attached. It’s great.

It’s past midnight when B climbs in through the kitchen window.

“Meow,” he calls out.

L doesn’t turn around. “You’re a cat burglar,” he guesses. He has two cups of coffee, black, waiting on the counter. Ten minutes later, Beyond brings him the other cup. It’s marshmallow sweet.

B is dressed in a cheap suit and diamonds. He has diamond earrings in his ears, a diamond necklace on his throat, and a diamond ring on his finger. Princess cut. L knows they’re real because the NYPD has been looking for them since yesterday.

“Hey, L,” says B, “It’s great to see you, L. How have you been, L? Have you been thinking about me, L?”

L, lips chapped, shuts him up in the most cliche way possible.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mello’s in tears from laughter when he and Matt stumbles home past midnight. L wonders if he remembered to set a curfew.

“Show him,” Mello cackles. “Show him!”

“Alright, alright.” Matt pulls out a fisted piece of paper from the pouch of his hoodie. “I have to, don’t I?”

They take it to L who holds it out with fingers pinched. The paper announces that Matt is failing every subject and will need a parent or guardian coming in to talk to his assigned counselor.

“I suppose that, since I am your legal guardian, Matt, I should be the one to accompany you to school to speak to this Mrs. Lynda Felds,” says L.

Mello is on the couch laughing his ass off and Matt just shrugs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mrs. Linda Felds is not impressed with the specimen Matt drags in from home. She puts Matt out in the waiting area in the office and holds her door open.

“You’re Matt’s…parent? Mr…”

L crouches on the only chair available and ignores her outstretched hand “Ryuuzaki. I am Matt’s legal guardian.”

Mrs. Felds is a short, white woman who wears all black. She closes the door and perches on her chair instead of sitting on it.

“Okay. Let’s talk. Now I don’t want to concern you too much, Mr. Ryuuza-“

“Just Ryuuzaki will do.”

“ _Ryuuzaki_.” She smiles wider. “But I am concerned about Matt.” She lets that statement drop and waits, unceasingly smiling.

L squirms. “That is kind of you.”

“My concern” she continues, “is that the problem is an emotional one.”

“Ah, I thought you might say that,” L agrees.

“Oh? And is there something in particular going on at home? Something we should know about?”

L ponders this for quite some time. “Yes, I estimate that there is possibility of thirty two different circumstances affecting Matt emotionally during the past week.”

“Are you making fun of me, Mr. Ryuuzaki?”

L smiles wide for her. “No more than you are making fun of me, Mrs. Felds.”

“Mr. Ryuuzaki, let me show you something.” Mrs. Felds takes out some pieces of paper which she has prepared in a manilla folder on her desk. “Matt’s report card. Will you take a look and tell me if you find the results interesting?”

L takes the pages and holds them between one thumb and index finger. “Certainly.”

A minute, two minutes go by.

“And? Mr. L? What do you think?”

L says, “It appears that Matt has scored a hundred percent in all tests of all subject areas but has, so far, failed to turn in a single page of homework.”

Mrs. Felds looks satisfied. “And would you agree that there may be some emotional problem affecting Matt at this critical period of his development?”

“Yes,” says L without missing a beat. “There are thirty two different possibilities of different emotional circumstances that may have affected Matt enough to impair his academic performance and a 10% chance that one of them has succeeded.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After the meeting, L takes Matt to McDonald’s since they missed dinner. He orders a milkshake and small bag of cookies.

“Matt.”

Matt’s in the middle of his second quarter pounder and drops a piece of lettuce to look up.

“Do you have any emotional problems that you would like to disclose to me as your legal guardian?”

The face Matt makes is so weird it makes a muscle under his eye feel funny.

“The fuck?”

L flexes his toes in a shoe and it almost falls off. “Please feel free.”

Matt is aghast. “Honestly? I’m chill, man.”

They eat their food in peace for a while.

“But same to you, you know,” says Matt, still uncomfortable. “If you ever need to get something off your chest…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a lot of fun writing beyond birthday this chapter. near is a lot harder for me to write.
> 
> this task was just L trying to prove a point! next chapter will be their first real tests.
> 
> let me know what you liked or didn't like in here please :)


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the kids get their second mission, mello and matt take a trip, near interrogates L

“I will be giving out your next mission tonight,” L begins dinner with. “Please enjoy the food before then.”

Near neither likes nor dislikes the possibility of receiving another case but prefers it to the daily task of going to school everyday. For dessert, they have an ice cream cake that L deconstructs layer by layer. Near declines it because sugar makes his nerves twitch and watches Mello pick out the chocolate bits to suck on instead.

“Matt, you will locate a certain cyberterrorist who goes by the handle Nemo and bring him or her to justice. Mello, 51 girls have disappeared from the Washington DC area. Please find out how. Near, an almond croissant of mine has disappeared. Find out who has eaten it. It is entirely possible that you will need to interview the people inside this very room.”

Mello spits out his juice from the other side of the table. A little lands on Near.

“Mello,” says L. “Please try to keep the contents of your mouth contained at all times.”

“How come he gets the easy one?” Mello demands.

When L smiles, there’s an element of joy missing.

“Near’s task is not and more easy or difficult than any of the others. Near’s weakness is that he relies on other people to do the labor of an investigation while he sits and speculates. In order to test him further, I’ve designed the task so that it is very unlikely that he should be able to receive help from any of the people around him, including the police force, to solve the problem.” Mello starts to look smug before L goes on. “All the the tasks given today were designed with the applicant’s weakness in mind.”

Mello keeps asking questions. “What’s Matt’s weakness?”

L blinks at Matt, who gives a stupid smile.

“Matt’s weakness is that he is extremely lazy and cannot be motivated by any reliable means.”

As Mello howls, Near stares at the way his eyes crinkle and white teeth shine.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mello’s in Matt’s bed telling dirty jokes when someone knocks on their bedroom door.

“It’s me, Near,” they hear and Mello yells at him to come in before diving under the covers.

“I thought I heard Mello,” says Near when he comes inside.

The blankets are the puffy kind and Mello’s skinny so it looks like there’s nothing but legs in Matt’s bed.

“Nah…” Matt says, playing along. “Mello went out. You’re getting confused, N.”

Near looks around their room. It’s messy with clothes from both of them on Matt’s side while Mello’s bed looks clean, starched, and tightly made.

“I need to question you about the case of the missing pastry,” says Near. Under the covers, Mello slides a hand up Matt’s boxers.

“Oh, sure” says Matt, beginning to freak out a little.

“I’ve narrowed the possibility of theft as being most statistically likely between the dates of September 30th and October 8th,” says Near.

“Pasty theft,” clarifies Matt as Mello pulls his underwear down over one hip. “So you think it’s more likely that someone stole L’s cupcake since we started living with him and not before?”

Near either finds no humor in the situation or has perfected his poker face. “Precisely. And it was a croissant.”

Mello licks Matt inside his hip lightly and Matt’s jaw drops.

Near either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “So I am requesting a transcript of an hourly log of your and Mello’s activities for the past couple weeks.”

“Shit, N,” says Matt. “No one has time for that.” 

And fuck. Mello’s started to suck on Matt’s hipbone now. Hard.

“If you do not provide this these transcripts,” Near goes on, “then I will have no choice but to declare both you and Mello more guilty than at the onset of the case.”

Mello’s hair is soft in Matt’s fingers and he’s pulling it so tight he's afraid some of it’s going to come out.

“Yeah, that’s fine, Near,” he manages. “More suspicious than L, you mean, in a case that involves his own missing cupcake? A-okay with me.”

Near narrows his eyes. “At the beginning of the case, L was slightly more suspicious than either of you due to the possibility of he himself creating the conditions for his own test. Now I am forced to consider you and Mello as slightly more viable candidates.”

Mello sucks again. Harder. Matt groans.

“Are you jerking off?” Near suddenly asks.

The pillow Matt throws misses him by a foot. “Get the fuck out!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mello’s case is an information fuckfest. There’s online petition after online petition on all social media sites rallying the DC police to pay attention to the missing girls - all black, all between 13 and 16, and all last seen in the same five block radius of outer city DC. The files from the actual investigation are minimal at best.

A breakthrough comes when the 52nd girl escapes capture. She manages to get out of the trunk she’s locked in at a gas station and flees towards the security cameras.

The car is the girl’s and left in a ditch between in Virginia but a highway camera picks up the driver’s face. It’s too blurry and no help for the police.

“No fucking _way_ ,” Mello breathes, hit pause, rewinds, and presses play again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mello doesn’t show up until dessert and, when he does, the air is tense. Matt knows the look he’s giving L. The last time a kid got that look, Mello locked him in his closet and set the wastebasket in the room on fire.

“I need to go to Mexico,” Mello says.

“Hm!” says L. “Very well. I will inform your school of your impending absence.”

Mello still hasn’t sat down and neither has he stopped staring at L.

“Wammy,” L remarks. “The molasses is simply delicious.” Matt has the familiar feeling that’s he’s, yet again, missed something.

“Hey, Mello,” he says. “Why’re you going to Mexico? Want some company?

Mello’s gaze turn to him and it’s scary. When he goes for the door, he gets too close to L and, before anyone can react, flips the plate of sweet sauce and crumbs on the table over. A piece of pie crust hits L’s foot.

“Yeah, sure, Matt.” Mello’s voice is sickly sweet, as if he’s making a point of speaking to no one else, right before he slams the door. “You can come, if you want.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Near’s not sure how he’s supposed to figure out his mystery now that more than half of his suspects have gone missing so he runs a bath instead. He picked up a rubber duck from a store earlier that week and lets it float until it bounces off his knee.

When he closes his eyes, he replays the way Mello grabbed L’s dessert and flung it to the floor over and over again in his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mello’s bought his ticket under the atrociously fake name Nikolai Karamov, age 27. He’s also a stick of a kid so Matt is unsure how he’s going to pass for someone who's nearing thirty.

The case is obviously a trafficking one but Matt doesn’t know who and where. The only thing left is to follow Mello’s tracks. This brings him to a dead end. There’s a video of a car speeding past an intersection and, after that, nothing.

The driver is a woman, not bad looking. She’s wearing a baseball cap so facial recognition is out of the question. Matt gets busy on social media instead.

There’s one account, obviously fake, that’s friend requested a good chunk of the missing girls on Facebook. Not all of them accepted but the ones who did disappeared early.

After that, it’s easy peasy and Matt’s buying his own ticket to Tenancingo in no time at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the airport, Mello gets in a cab. It takes him to a motel where he gets a key from a bored looking woman in sweatpants. He’s on the second floor in a room that stinks of smoke. Five minutes later, someone knocks on the door.

Matt’s there, beaming like Mello should be proud of him or something.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt’s brought everything he thought they might need. He’d left on better terms than Mello with L, after all, and managed to borrow wigs and computers and spy equipment. All Mello had with him was the pieces of a gun broken up into sections and stowed away in several pieces of checked in luggage.

The bed is soft and smelly. Matt lounges and turns the TV on.

“You forgot bullets, dumbass.”

Mello didn’t. He pulls them out from where he has them hidden under his tongue.

“Yo, Mello,” laughs Matt. “You ever think that it’d be easier to just have gotten a glock here? I mean, this place is sort of a criminal hangout, don't you think?”

“Yo, Matt,” Mello echoes. “You ever think that you’re too stupid to live? The _Padrote_ has eyes and ears everywhere. You don’t think two foreigners suddenly asking around about where to get a piece might tip him off?”

Goofy, Matt just hangs his whole body around Mello’s. It’s tense, every muscle begging to be rubbed.

“What are you worried about, M? We were raised for this sort of shit, am i right or not?”

Matt’s not prepared for the look Mello gives him. It’s sad, something Mello has never let himself look.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner is strange when it’s just for two. Despite the low attendance, Wammy insists on eating in the kitchen after serving them a five course meal that L doesn’t touch and Near only nibbles on. He’s allergic to most things and uninterested in the rest.

“May I ask how is your assignment going for you, Near?” asks L while making his cheesecake into a series of pyramids.

“There is something that I have been meaning to ask you about the case,” says Near.

L sits back, eyes wide. “Yes?”

“I have interviewed 50% of the total number of possible suspects but am contained by one thought - you never mentioned to any of us during our stay that it is wrong or against the rules to eat whatever supplies are available in the kitchen. Therefore, it is entirely possible for any of us, myself included, to have eaten the croissant in question without considering it deviant behavior. In fact, it would be entirely plausible, however unlikely, for myself to have eaten the croissant and forgotten about it completely.”

L doesn’t move. “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

“So, L, I am wondering if you have preserved the original crime scene so that I might study it for additional clues.”

L nods. “I understand. However, I have long since eaten the remaining number of croissants and the package, afterwards, was thrown out.”

Near takes a bite of fruit salad. “I see.”

“If you would like to look at the unpreserved crime scene, however, please note that the croissants were stored in the usual pastry cupboard, the one close to the sink.”

Near sighs. “Thank you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, you want me to do anything, Mello? Spy on anyone? Ask around for any information?”

They’ve zoned out to a television program for hours now and Matt was starting to get hungry.

“Nah,” says Mello, taking a look at the clock.

Matt leans back. “Alright, whatever you say, boss.”

When midnight rolls around, jet leg comes on strong and Matt wakes up with his face planted in Mello’s armpit.

“Gross,” he groans. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Mello’s still dry and humorless but he’s putting the gun in his pants and giving Matt the finger.

“Fuck, you're hot,” Matt says in spite of the circumstances.

Suddenly, Mello’s livid.

“I didn’t ask you to come here to make fucking lame comments about my business, you got it? Stop acting like you haven’t got your head screwed on right, Matt, or I’ll take it off and put it in place for you.”

“Whoa,” says Matt. “I mean, sorry. I just like what I see, that’s all.”

Mello’s fist makes it to Matt’s head in less than a second but, after two, his mouth hits Matt’s. The kiss is bruising, full of teeth, and Matt can’t stop laughing. When they’re done, the gum Matt’s been chewing is in Mello’s mouth and they’re both smiling a little at what a failure the whole thing was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A hour after dinner, L is eating a second dessert in front of a laptop in the living room when the light turns on.

“Yes, Near?”

Near crouches on the floor holding a rubber duck. “L, after examining the cupboard close to the sink, I could not find any clues to assist me in my case. I would like to interview you both as the victim of the crime and as a possible suspect.”

L gives him a satisfied nod. “Please feel free.”

“On what date did you notice the croissant to be actively missing?”

“Hm,” mumbles L, a finger scratching his throat. “It has been quite a while since the incident but I do believe that it was October 6th around 3 AM.”

“And what circumstances left you to realize that there was one less pasty in the package than you originally remembered there being?”

“Ah, that is because it takes me approximately twenty three minutes to eat an entire croissant. This was originally a pack of 20 that I opened when working on a case from 9:00 PM to midnight. During that time, it would only be plausible for me to have eaten 8 croissants, even less. However, I rediscovered the bag that day with only 11 croissants remaining. I knew at once that someone had been in my stores.”

Near frowns, squeezes the rubber duck until the face is monstrous. “And what date did you begin to work on this case?

“That would be October 5th,” answers L.

“So I am to understand,” asks Near, “that a gap of three hours, from midnight to 3:00 AM, is the only time in which the croissant could have gone missing?”

“Precisely.”

“L, is there any way that you may have eaten an extra croissant between October 5th 12:00 AM and October 6th 3:00 AM?”

“That is impossible,” declares L. “As i was otherwise occupied.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After, putting Matt in a cafe, Mello walks a thin line with a wire attached to a rosary. The place he goes to is familiar. He hasn’t been there for almost five years now but the muscle memory takes him back.

“Mihaaael.” The guard smiles when he sees him. “Holy shit. No one told me you were coming home.”

“Rudolph, baby.” Mello smiles back.

“You’re all grown up now. Gimme a hug.”

They come together and apart, sticky with the heat.

“I’ll tell Selena you’re here, alright? Go on inside and get reacquainted,” says Rudolph.

Mello is halfway through the open door when Rudolph lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on a second.”

Heart beating, Mello finds the top of his gun with the pad of his thumb.

“Do I need to check you?” Rudolph throws out.

Mello scowls. “Fuck you, man.” He throws the hand off his shoulder and goes all the way inside, Rudolph laughing behind him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Selena wasn’t exactly happy to see Mello, not that he’d expected her to be. The last time they saw each other, they’d enjoyed a tear stricken goodbye. Selena had held Mello tight, made him promise to never forget her.

“You little bitch,” she spat. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

Mello sprawled out on a couch. He swore it was the same one he’d sucked a guy off on, a gun pressed to his head, before.

“I missed you too, Mama.”

Selena sits down next to him, moves his arms and legs around so he’s sitting properly. “You think I’m old enough to be your mother? Ooh, you really got soft headed.”

Mello laughs.

Selena got fatter and more suspicious since the last time Mello saw her. “What are you doing here, Mihael?”

“What are you doing here? Looked for you on the corner. Thought you’d be out there trapping.” Mello hadn’t bothered. There was no way Selena would be on the street if she was running her own game in DC.

“You think I still do that?” Selena laughs. “I’d be dead.”

“Thought you _were_ dead,” says Mello back. “Remember the guy who tried to hang you from the ceiling?”

“Mihael,” sighs Selena. “It’s like you’re back from my dreams, bringing up all these nice things from the past.”

“So sorry,” says Mello. “I just never thought I’d walk in and find the _Madrote_ dead and you still alive and kicking.”

Selena’s smile is cynical. “What? You mad? Baby, you wanna see me dead?”

Mello hums. “Nah, I’m not mad. I’m proud, Ma. Thought I’d pay you a visit. I’m looking for Pa.”

It’s sudden as a fall but Selena’s pulling back. “No.”

Mello’s heart is racing again. “No, what?”

“Why are you here, Mihael?” Selena asks for the second time. “You here undercover?” Before Mello can laugh and ask her what she’s talking about, she’s yelling for Rudolph. “Rudolph, you fat bastard, get in here! You search him when he came in?” she demands when Rudolph comes in with sweat all over his shirt.

“Ma, he’s like fourteen and it’s _Mihael_.”

“So, you didn’t search him? For a wire even?”

Mello realizes what he has to do a minute too late and Rudolph is almost on him before he has the gun up and ready.

“Oh, fuck,” says Rudolph.

“Get your hands up,” Mello yells. “Turn around, face the wall.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt is trying to figure out pesos when he realizes that it really doesn’t matter and dumps way more money than necessary on the counter for a confused bartender.

It figures that Mello went the way of the most number of guards so Matt is ducking behind telephone poles like he’s the pink panther before he gets to an apartment door and presses his ear against thin metal.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Why’re you in Virginia,” Mello wants to know, “Picking up girls, Selena? Are you bringing them back here? To break them for the market? Taking them to LA or New York after?”

“Mikey,” she coos. “You know the answers to all these questions, don’t you?”

Mello doesn’t answer. He doesn't have to. He’s the one with the gun.

“C’mon Mihael, you don’t want to shoot me. Who was there for you when you were just a baby faced darling fresh off the boat from wherever it is you came from?”

“I thought you were going to try to get out of the life,” says Mello, feeling stupid.

Selena turns around and Mello doesn’t try to stop her. Her hands are up and shaking.

“I got you out, didn’t I, sweetie?”

Then, the door opens and Rudolph is pulling a gun on Matt before there’s two gunshots and Mello is holding hot metal, pushback hot on his fingers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Fuck, Mel.” Matt breaks the silence first. He’d opened the door to Mello blowing the heads off a dude and a woman not three feet in front of him. “We have to get out of here.”

Mello is shell shocked and it takes a minute they don’t have to get him moving. His fingers, glove bound, wouldn’t let go of the glock.

“Drop it,” says Matt. “And c’mon!” He grabs Mello by the wrist and flees.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ah, you’re back,” L greets when they walk in. “How was Mexico, Mello?”

Matt expects a complete breakdown, a fit of anger. Mello smiles sarcastic and breezes past L. “Great. I got a tan.”

L doesn’t flinch. “Well, despite there being no deadline given to you on these assignments, I have the distinct feeling that we are at a finishing point. Perhaps, if you can be so kind as to notify Near who is currently in his bedroom, Mello, we should, perhaps, meet regarding what we have all learned.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mello always seems like a traumatized character to me so I wanted to write him that way. I also always think that near had somewhat of a thing for mello. also, all the crimes I used so far are real.
> 
> I have to change some of the dialogue around in the next chapter and am going to be hit with a lot of work in the next two weeks so the last chapter may not be up in a week. I'll do my best, though, to get it up in at least two weeks.
> 
> tell me what you think! did you like this chapter? yes? no? can you guess who ate L's croissant?


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter! basically, we get to see exactly what L was plotting this whole time.

L squats on his usual chair, Near on the floor, and Matt sprawls out on a couch no one seems very interested in so Mello stands and leans on a doorway like he’s ready to leave at any time.

“I believe,” L begins, “That not one of you has solved the case given to you despite it being no harder than your last one and more than thirty days having passed.”

Mello can’t tell if L looks fucking depressed at this news or if the look just comes from L looking fucking depressed all the time.

“Near, you have not solved the case of my missing croissant despite extensive access to both myself and your other suspects. Mello, you have let your personal feelings get in the way of tracking the leader of the trafficking ring. And Matt, it seems that you have made zero progress on your own case, and I am disappointed at your extreme enthusiasm to help Mello solve his.”

After all that he’s gone through, Mello is seething. “My personal _feelings_?”

L regards him bleakly. “Yes.”

“You think that I could have stopped the entire human trafficking industry in Tenancingo if it weren’t for my personal _feelings_?”

“Of course not,” says L. “All the cases I gave the three of you were by nature, unsolvable, give the essences of your natures.”

Matt starts to laugh.

“However,” L finishes, “It is the duty of the word’s greatest detective to solve cases which are unsolvable.”

This time, it’s Near who speaks up. “L, I would like to know what you to clarify that last statement. Just a moment ago, you claimed that these cases were no more difficult than our previous ones while now you claim that they are impossible.”

L sighs. “Unsolvable and impossible are two different things. You see, Near, the croissant in question was eaten by a person of whom you had no knowledge about ever being in this apartment. In fact, the person who ate my croissant is someone who all of you believe to be dead. That individual is Beyond Birthday.”

“Beyond Birthday?” Mello is in shock. “Of the LABB Murders?”

“Precisely,” says L. “Because Near believes Beyond Birthday to be dead, he did not investigate the possibility of that fact to be either right or wrong. Nor did he come to the conclusion that this exact possibility would have made all the difference in his case. If he had, he might have been able to trace several phone calls and SMS messages from my personal cell phone to Beyond Birthday and realize that, the night in question, B was indeed allowed to spend enough time in the kitchen alone to eat the missing croissant.”

“I understand,” says Near. Mello is nowhere close to understanding.

“Why the hell is Beyond Birthday alive and in our kitchen eating our croissants?” he demands. “Isn’t this guy a serial killer?”

L chews his pinky thoughtfully. “Yes, technically, Beyond Birthday is a serial killer, at least according to the results of the LABB case. This was, I remind you, the case that made me the world’s greatest detective.”

They consider the implications for a moment, silent.

Mello is angrier than he thought possible. “The world’s greatest detective doesn’t design his own greatest crime,” he shouts. “ _What the hell_.”

Exhausted, L points a finger at the sky. “On the contrary. This world’s greatest detective may not have designed his own crime but he did design his own criminal. It is also possible to say that the criminal was the one who designed his own detective.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” says Mello. His teeth are about to fall out from him grinding them too hard when the L’s cell phone rings.

“Oh,” says L. “Excuse me for one moment please.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In the other room, L is just saying “Yes, yes, yes” over and over again at varying intervals so there’s little point in eavesdropping.

“L is a fucking fake!” Mello yells for L to overhear. There’s a pause between the yeses but no one can tell if it’s because the conversation called for it. Matt laughs out loud but no one can tell if it’s from what Mello said or something on his phone. No one else says anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When L comes back, he looks out the window.

“B is coming,” he says wearily.

Near speaks. “L, I understand why you have given me the mission of the missing croissant now.”

L doesn’t look away from the window. “Do you?” he sighs.

“Yes. Do to my own personality, I tend to discount other people in my investigation. By giving me a case in which you would be forced to reveal your own collaboration with Beyond Birthday, a well known criminal, you hope to teach me the necessity of working with those around me, even those who are considered criminals.”

“Sure,” L says from the window. “That sounds about right.”

Near keeps going. “However, L, I believe that you are wrong.”

“Like hell he’s wrong,” shoots Mello. “He’s only the greatest scam artist of the decade!” Matt laughs again. 

L just keeps staring out the window. “Do you?”

“Yes,” says Near. “Solving crime is like playing a game. In a game of chess, the purpose is not to create your own opponent in order to become the world’s best player. The purpose is to become a player who has the ability to beat any player he encounters. I will never choose to work with reckless criminals such as Beyond Birthday when I know I can beat them.”

L smiles wryly. “When I first met B -“ He never gets to finish because the doorbell rings.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There’s a pizza guy at the door, holding five cheese pies. No one’s ordered pizza but L lets him in so he can put it all on the table. As soon as the door closes, he pulls out a gun and puts it to L’s head.

No one is impressed.

“Gotcha!” yells B. “Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha, gotcha! Classic delivery man disguise. Don’t mind me. Wasn’t trying that hard, just wanted to make a cute entrance, you know? Anyone want pizza?”

Matt’s the only one who takes a slice.

“Everyone, this is B,” introduces L. “B, these are my potential successors. They are named Near, Mello, and Matt.” Matt notices that he doesn’t point at any of them as he’s assigning their names.

“Oh,” says B. “They are adorable. L, they say that children give one a true purpose in life. Have you found this type of fulfillment now that you have these particularly fine specimens at your disposal, L?” He widens a smile with too many teeth at Near, who blinks once.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” interrupts Mello. “You had a heart attack.”

B smiles wider.

“B did have an heart attack,” says L. “I’m afraid that cardiac disease runs in his family. It was a most jarring event. However, this is a story, I must say, for another day. It would be in our best interest, I believe, to continue the original trajectory of our meeting.”

“Beyond Birthday,” Near says. B was crouching on the floor, right in front of him, eyes and mouth wide and in his face. “I have three questions for you.”

“How’d you get so tiny?” B breathes. “How’d this one get so tiny, L? Malnutrition or what?”

Near ignores him. “Did you eat L’s missing croissant?”

“I particularly like his _skin_ ,” says B. “Makes me miss my own prepubescent skin. Do you remember all those pock marks I had growing up? I’ve always wanted clear, smooth, baby skin like this one.”

Near waits for his answer like he has all the time in the world.

“Next question,” L urges him gently when it’s time. B is close enough to Near’s face to lick his nose.

“Were you the true perpetrator of the LABB case? We were told that you were covered in severe burns by the end of the case. However, you appear to have no visible scarring.”

Beyond jerks away and opens a box of pizza. “Hey, they caught my body all burned to a crisp. Ooh, the pain….you couldn’t imagine how much pain I was in. 70% of my body! Couldn’t see the features on my face, ugly as they’ve always been. They couldn’t get an identification, not that it matters. Who would be able to recognize little ole me?”

By the time he finishes talking, B’s pulled off an entire layer of cheese and tears off a section with his teeth.

Near tries his third question. “What is your relationship with L?”

This time, B turns abruptly away from Near, towards Mello and Matt, and grins again, that smile which makes his teeth shine and lips disappear. “Which is this one?” 

“The yellow and black one or the red and green one?” asks L.

Grease runs down B’s fingers and he tries to slurp it up. “You know which one I want,” he says viciously.

Without looking at anyone in particular, L clears his throat and says loudly, “Mello, B has requested both your attention and conversation.”

Mello bares his teeth. “We’re not talking about my case.”

“Oh,” says B. “It’s the pretty one. Of course it is.”

From the corner, L coughs. “Please treat Mello as if he were a fragile object. Recently, I had an opportunity to re-traumatize him,” he says in a deadpan, “By asking him to investigate the very organization responsible for his own past as a trafficked worker - an opportunity I, of course, took.”

B’s face blows up into the very definition of ecstatic. “ _Great_ one,” he congratulates L.

At the mention of the words _fragile object_ , every muscle in Mello turns stiff and he feels his face heat up. “I guess this is all really funny to you, huh?” he drawls, like he’s bored with the situation already. “I guess my life is all one big joke to you. Haha. _Ha_.”

B squeezes himself between him and Matt on the couch and leans into Mello’s side. He breathes down Mello’s neck. “Hardly. I’m fascinated.” Matt’s skin crawls because B’s entire body feels cold.

L explains. “B’s an amateur psychologist. In fact, his most notable and useful skill in his entire criminal career is that of psychological terror.”

“Oh, I’m hardly an amateur,” says B in Mello’s face. Matt has a close up of Mello’s face, which is twisting into a display of disgust.

“Please step away from Mello, B” says L sadly, looking down at Near. “He is a minor and you need my explicit consent before examining him.”

B just looks happier. “Explicit?”

“Mello,” L asks, staring Near down. “Would you like to talk to B about how your recent experience in Mexico has affected you psychologically? I hear that talking about things will remedy the possibility of long term emotional damage.”

Matt’s busy trying to become one with the armrest just to put some space between him and B when Mello jumps up.

“Yes!” Mello snaps. “Fine. Yes, I will talk to this guy. But we’re not doing it in front of everyone else.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

B and Mello disappear into Matt and Mello’s room and lock the door. Near’s in a pissy mood for the night after everything that’s happened so Matt follows L around.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Matt keeps asking. “Why do you think Mello agreed to talk to B? Why did they want to be alone? What do you think they’re talking about?”

L lets this go on for precisely five minutes. Then, he turns and faces Matt. 

“I honestly have no idea,” he says flatly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as the door is closed, B turns into another person. The change is subtle but perceptible. He’s no longer playacting as L but something else, something that was before Mello’s time, a thing that he has no cultural context for.

He sits on Mello’s bed, crosses a leg, and leans back. “I never bet on you,” he tells Mello.

Of course, it’s protocol that Mello takes offense. Somehow, his heart isn’t really in it this time. “Says B for backup,” he tries anyway without heat.

At that, B howls a little too loudly for the joke. “B for backup,” he agrees, “and blueberry, black bird, baby boy, and Big Bird. L for lavender. L for loneliness. L for _laaame_.”

Mello doesn’t see the point in talking like this or about this so he sits on the floor. “I’m not talking about my case,” he says again.

B stares at him for a long moment. “Of course not. Your case is so boring I’d still be yawning if I weren’t getting head when I heard about it. In fact, if _that_ fiasco were human, it’d call itself an initial and spend its days doing everything the same.”

It’s a close call, but Mello doesn’t laugh outright. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“My case,” answers B. “Duh! One of the most fascinating cases in human history.”

Mello is not impressed. “And it was solved.”

It’s like B never even heard him. “It’s the LABB Murders,” he says. “Any any _patterns_? A, B, C, D? L, M, N? Now, that L…he’s a wild card _and_ a babe.” B winks.

“There’s two M’s,” says Mello.

B sneers in a way that makes his face look like plastic. “Matt’s a stupid name.” This unnerves Mello enough to make him pay attention for some reason.

“He needed a double but he learned his lesson with me, I guess. Never name someone the same thing twice. Ha! A was really the best. Really nice guy. One in a thousand. A dime a dozen, if you will. Anyway, three’s a crowd and a secret is only a secret if two are dead.”

“You and L are still alive,” says Mello. “And A killed himself.”

B doesn't smile but Mello can tell from the quirk of his lips that he’s resisting one. “I burned up in LA,” B reminds him. “Only took a few minutes, apparently.”

“Oh shit,” says Mello, realizing something.

“Oh yes. I knew as soon as I saw you that I wanted you to be my successor,” B goes on. “it’s what you’ve wanted all this time, after all. RIght, Mello? You wanted to be chosen.”

“We _just_ met. And I wanted to be _L_ ,” spits Mello, faraway and only pretending to be cross.

B doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh please. The only one who wants to beat L is Near, who's a little monster. Speaking of which…” B looks up at the ceiling like a day dreamer in the afternoon and starts talking a mile a minute. “Poison is a great move but they can track it in the autopsy if they end up excavating the body. Gunshots are cleaner but you'll have to make up an excuse, of course. I’m sure you have plenty. The best is a heroin overdose if you can play it off but I’m afraid your kid is as clean as they come, for now at least. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually but might as well start filling in the blanks now, won't you? There’s just so many _great_ _ways_ to kill someone. Just make sure you remember this: the time will come when all the people around him will fall and all you’ll have to do is remember his name. You do know his name, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Mello wants to know, knowing almost exactly what B was talking about. It began with his initial and spelled red rum backwards.

B gives him a look like he’s gone and disgusted him. “Don’t you fucking play with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Just so you know, if you even dare to hesitate on that trigger, it’ll be your name in the obituaries and you won’t be the only one. Teenagers think they’re never going to die but my guess is that it’ll be an even two out of three this time. It’s better for world peace anyway. Let me remind you, I’ve got years of experience in the criminal underworld and my advice? Don’t start small.”

Mello hisses like a cat. “I’ll pass.”

Before he gets to the door, he pauses to check that B has stayed in the same place. Because he’s the type to always go back for seconds, he asks, “You’re not going to try and convince me?”

B barks. “If I were trying to be persuasive, I’d ask you why you were doing this in the first place,” he says and leaves first.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mello and B are back for dinner, which Watari serves. It’s seafood gumbo and crawfish with spicy, yellow rice. Every time Matt tries to catch Mello’s eye, he’s looking somewhere else.

“Do you eat?” Matt asks B because silence is boring. “I’m the only one who eats.”

B _tsk_ s like the question’s annoying. “I do a lot of cocaine.”

“We have all failed our cases,” Near brings up. “What will you do about the question of your successor, L?”

L stares at the ceiling, fingering the rim of a glass of water. “Unbeknownst to you, I had already chosen a successor before the three of you came to New York. That selection was based neither on the methods you used to solve cases nor on your academic performance.”

“Oh this is _delicious_ ,” B hums, smelling a crawfish, licking it, and tossing it over his shoulder.

“What the hell?” Mello’s eyes bug out. “You can’t fucking _do_ that!”

B laughs. “Oh, yes he can. He can do anything. He’s L, after all. Just watch. You think _I’m_ the crazy one.”

“What was the point of having us come here, L?” Near asks.

“Who knows?” says B, smelling another crawfish. “Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he needed a vacation and didn’t know how to ask. Hey, maybe he just wanted to fuck around with all of you a little.”

“Who the fuck is your successor, L?” Mello screeches.

L blinks slow like he’s never considered the possibility of such a backlash before.

“It is Matt, of course.”

“ _Matt_?” Mello shrieks.

Matt’s eyes and mouth hangs open wide. “Me?”

“L,” Near says, “Why is Matt your number one chosen successor?”

L closes his eyes as if he is just much too sleepy to be bothered answering such a simple question. “Matt is good at computers,” he answers simply.

“Ha!” says B. “And that’s the crux of the matter.”

“No shit!” yells Mello. “That’s all he’s good for! Matt couldn’t tell you the difference between his asshole and my foot but, yes, he’s very good at _computers_.”

L looks uncomfortable at Mello’s continued onslaught. “Yes, and we live in an information society.”

Near has gone back to the puzzle he’s never finished and always finishing. “I see, L. I think I understand.”

Before Mello can declare that he, for one, really does not understand, Matt himself is groaning.

“I don’t get it, L. Why me? Man, do I really have to do your job now? You know that’s the last thing I want out of life…”

“We live in an information society, Matt,” explains L. “Where everyone’s address, action, and even subconscious desires are available on the internet. The type of detective that I am is a product left over from the Cold War. With cell phone technology and surveillance in the state it is in today, the world no longer has a need for any detective who is not also the world’s greatest hacker.”

“Aw, man, but I failed your hacking thing, right? My last case?” says Matt, trying to get out of it. “So I guess I’m not the world’s greatest hacker so I can’t be the world’s greatest detective.”

“Damn, L,” interjects B. “I can see why you chose this guy. He’s a fucking L for _loser_.”

“On the contrary,” says L. “The hacker who Matt was meant to track down, Nemo, was impossible to track. It just so happens that, even if you attempted the endeavor, you would not have gotten anywhere with your case at all.”

Matt straightens, nods acceptingly. “Sounds about right. Maybe you should hunt down that Nemo guy and make him the next L, huh?”

“Nemo hasn’t shown any signs of activity since his only known sighting - an attack on a Goldman Sachs server that landed him almost 2 billion dollars almost three years ago, a sum that was promptly returned not an hour after the theft.”

Matt nods some more, impressed. “Wow, it really sounds like this guy is _your_ guy, L. He’s as crazy as they come.”

“The hacker who used the name Nemo also used 2000 other handles to conduct the attack, all at the same time.”

“Pretty smart move,” says Matt happily.

“Matt,” says L, “Nemo was one of your own handles which you had an algorithm generate automatically in your own heist almost three years ago. We only know about the incident because a teacher at Wammy’s House caught you red handed in the computer center. It appears that you have forgotten due to the high occurrence of similar incidents.”

Matt is shocked. “What? You’re saying that you sent me to catch _me_?”

L smiles without humor. “Yes.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Matt visits L, who is playing minesweeper in his office, to try to get out of the whole situation.

“Damn, man,” he says. “You really dropped a big one. You know I’m not kidding when I say I don’t want your job, right?”

L clicks on a bomb. The screen turns red. “Your worst flaw, Matt, is that you allow others or, specifically one other person, to dominate almost all of your affairs while you remain absolutely apathetic to everything and everyone else.”

Matt doesn’t move. “Yeah, I know. I just really like Mel.” When L doesn’t respond, he peeks between his fingers. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry,” L apologizes. “It seems that this type of emotional discussion is not my specialty. If you’d like to discuss what is on your mind at length, I suggest that you book an appointment with B.”

Matt stares at L for too long. “Nah, it’s cool,” he finally says and leaves.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After that, Matt waits for Mello to get out of the shower in a state of anxiety. It’s only midnight but he feels like he could stay up all night.

As soon as Mello comes in, smelling like soap and damp, Matt collapses into the bed theatrically. “What a great day, huh, Mel? I feel like we really got out there, really learned a lot about ourselves and the world.”

Mello says nothing and Matt sneaks a peak at his between his fingers, All he’s doing is drying the ends of his hair on a towel. There’s a drama happening in his head, one that Matt isn’t allowed to be a part of, as he sits there still as a statue.

“You’ve got an extremely classic look, Mello-babe.” When Mello is upset, his favorite thing is to see Matt get sloppy.

“B told me to kill Near,” says Mello when he sees that Matt is not going to ask.

“For real?” Matt chokes.

“Does he seem like the type to joke around to you?”

Matt doesn’t know how to answer that. “I mean, honestly?”

“He killed A,” says Mello, staring straight ahead. He looks melodramatic but barely and he’s a teen on top of it all so Matt figures he’s allowed that, at the very least. They stay like that for a while, not looking at each other.

Then, Matt reaches down and takes his foot, bare, in one hand.

“What are you doing?” Mello blinks.

“I love you,” Matt blurts out.

For the second time in his life, Matt sees Mello sad.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the end of the year, both Mello and Matt have missed so much school during the semester that they automatically have to repeat the semester. Near is a senior now but only has two credits to finish. No one brings up B after the dinner but Matt knows he’s left Mello an AOL email address. When a series of unexplained heart attacks begin to hit criminals in Japan, L flies out.

“We’ll settle any unfinished business when I am back,” he tells them before he goes. “This may take a week, it might take years. All I ask if that you take of yourselves before each other.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! this fic is done! it's an ending and story that doesn't really makes sense but which I had fun writing. I couldn't help but make B talk in riddles. just so if anyone is confused:
> 
> 1\. L and B work together. the concept of the world's greatest detective is a collaboration between them. one has to create the world's greatest crimes so that the world's greatest detective can solve them, like actors improvising on a story together.
> 
> 2\. both L and B were instrumental to A deciding to kill himself.
> 
> 3\. L and B chose Near, Mello, and Matt to reflect themselves in the past but it's unclear whether they truly want history to repeat itself.
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for anyone who reads this far and finishes the fic! I hope you enjoyed my sense of humor. I'm so addicted to these characters now and hope that, if you see this, that you are in this same boat we sail on through this very dead fandom. lotsa love <3


End file.
